


Winning a Bet

by SPNFanBoy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Charlie Ships It, Kinda Crack, M/M, Witches, truth potion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 10:50:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9891443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPNFanBoy/pseuds/SPNFanBoy
Summary: Sam finds out secrets about his brother he never wanted to know.





	

**Author's Note:**

> AU where Charlie is still kicking, Samandriel was never an angel, and Dean is a bit of a whore.

"I'M ON THE HIGHWAY TO HELL" Sam sang at the top of his lungs, enjoying the slight burn of his throat as he sped down the road back to the bunker. He'd never admit it to Dean, but damn he loved this song. He glanced back in his rear view mirror, only to see a cruiser's bright lights flashing at him menacingly.  
"Aw, shit." He turned down the music considerably, and pulled off at the next exit. He put his hands at the top of the steering wheel in plain sight of the officer after rolling his window down. He heard the crunch of gravel beneath their boots as they approached the car.  
"Hey, so sorry to inconvenience you man, but despite the amazing ride you got, you were going a little fast there," the young officer said, surprising Sam with his squeaky voice and skinny frame. He looked over and was blinded temporarily by the sun glancing off of a name tag that read _Alfie_.  
"My name's Samandriel, license and registration please sir." Sam grabbed the documents from the glovebox, moving slowly.  
"I'm reaching for my pocket to grab my wallet," he said softly, but loud enough for the officer to hear. He handed over the papers and his license and looked at the officer only to find his eyes closed, lips moving along with the words to the song. Sam cleared his throat. The officer jumped, his eyes snapping open and he chuckled.  
"Sorry, I just got a little distracted I guess," he mumbled. He cleared his throat awkwardly, taking a cursory glance at the papers Sam handed him, and said "Well, it seems to me that you just got a little carried away. I'll let it go just this once. That is, as long as you promise not to do it again?" His groomed eyebrow raised in question.  
"Yes sir, never again," Sam agreed immediately.  
"Also, I uh, um. I see here that this is your partner's car, is that correct?"  
Laughing slightly to himself, Sam shook his head. "No sir, he's my brother. I'm just getting some soup for him, he's caught the flu."  
"That's very kind of you, Sam," Samandriel said, biting his lip. He looked at Sam approvingly. "Do you, uh. Do you work out often?" His eyes roamed over Sam's t-shirt, slowing where it stretched over his considerable biceps. Sam fought the very strong urge to roll his eyes.   
"Look man, I'm sorry but I'm not into guys" Sam said gently, hoping this wouldn't result in him actually getting a ticket.  
"Oh, I'm so sorry! I'm new to this, and I thought-" he started panicking.  
"Hey, no man, look, it's okay! I don't mind, trust me," Sam cut in, suddenly startlingly and randomly aware of how goddamn hungry he was. "I'm actually quite flattered." He waited patiently for the young man to calm down.  
"Well," the cop said, his eyes dimmed slightly and his hand writing something on his clipboard. "On the chance your good looks were given to your brother too, would you mind possibly giving this to him?" He handed Sam a hastily written scrap of paper along with his registration and license, saying the words _maybe you could take me for a spin sometime? (605)367-7430_ in blue ink.  
Sam sighed. "Sure, I'll pass it on." He didn't have the heart to tell him that his brother was borderline homophobic at times.  
"Have a nice day!" The cop grinned and walked back to his cruiser. Sam drove the rest of the way back in silence, mentally going through the kitchen back at the bunker in an attempt to decide on dinner.  
He pulled up in the garage in no time, still undecided. _Maybe some leftover turkey_? He continued musing as he gathered the grocery bags. _A salad? No, the lettuce must be bad by now, it's been weeks. Fuck, these are heavy. Why is soup so heavy_? He walked up the stairs, through a hallway and into the kitchen dropping the bags on the countertop with a big thump and a grunt.  
"Hey! You're back!" Dean yelled through the bunker, sounding like complete shit.  
"Yeah, I got you your soup. Had to drive all the way across town to get it, you picky jerk," Sam gladly accepted the sloppily made sandwich that his brother handed him.  
"Yeah, well maybe if you hadn't passed me the stupid witch virus we wouldn't be in this situation bitch." Dean started coughing as though to back up his point. "Seriously Sammy, witches!" Sam rolled his eyes and dug around in his pockets.  
"Here are the keys to your car, and also the number of the cop who pulled me over." Dean looked confused as he took them out of Sam's hand, but smiled when he read the note.  
"What's the matter Sammy, was she too awesome for you? She obviously has good taste," he said, dropping the note on the table in favor of heating up his soup. He started his slow shuffle over to the microwave in his dead guy robe and matching slippers, only to stop abruptly and turn around when Sam replied, "Actually, _he_ was interested in me first but I turned him down. I couldn't tell him that you didn't dig dudes on top of me rejecting him, I think I would've ruined his day."  
Dean opened his mouth and paused, choosing his next words carefully. "Um, so what'd he look like? Was he, uh. Was he hot?" He tried to look causal, leaning against the countertop.  
Sam dropped the sandwich he was eating in shock. _Think, Sam, think. If he were drunk enough to ask that, he wouldn't be nearly coherent enough to have made me a sandwich, so what else? A memory spell? Maybe part of the virus? I'll have to look back into the books-_  
Deans voice broke his train of thought. "Uh, earth to Sammy?" Dean looked slightly concerned.  
"Um, sorry Dean. Just, this sandwich is really good." He picked it back up, and continued eating it. "He was, uh, young. Maybe twenty-five? White, short brown hair, skinny. I guess he was pretty attractive. Why do you ask?" Now it was Sam's turn to attempt to act casual. He seemed to be failing at it miserably, if Dean's hesitance was any indication.  
"So, like a twink?"  
Sam's brain came to a screeching halt. They both stared each other down, Dean's face turning progressively more red. Finally, right before it reached a shade reminiscent of a second degree burn, Sam took pity on him. "Yeah, um. Yeah, I guess you could say that."  
Dean started to slowly nod his head and turned back to heating up his soup. Sam watched him cautiously, before deciding to give in and opened his mouth.  
Dean interrupted, "That's a shame, not really the type of guy I'm into." His back still turned toward Sam, he didn't see his brother's jaw drop open.  
Sam shook his head to clear it. He decided to take the statement at face value and assume this wasn't the virus's fault. "So, um. What kind of guys are you into? You know, just out of curiosity." He watched his brother tense up, then visibly calm himself down. Still facing the microwave, Dean cleared his throat.  
"Toppy," Dean muttered too soft for Sam to hear.  
"Sorry, what?"  
"I said toppy, Sam. I like men to boss me around." Dean yelled, his voice cracking as he whipped around to face his brother, his face lobster-red.  
"Um." Sam was shocked. He never thought he'd ever hear his brother admit to liking a guy, much less this. "I completely support and love you no matter who you fuck, Dean, and-" Sam paused, his eyebrows bunching together in concern. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but are you alright?" Dean walked out of the room in a huff. Sam's heart dropped. He definitely hadn't meant to hurt him. He got up quickly, striding over to the doorway only to run into Dean who was holding a very thick, old-looking book in his hands. Sam opened his mouth, but stopped when Dean shook his head.  
"Read this. It's about the virus." Dean handed over the book which was opened to a page with a drawing of a man tied to a chair. It was titled "Interrogation Serum, v. 8.4" and under it in a messy scrawl was written _failed. Subj took too long to react. More jobberknoll feathers, perhaps?_  Sam shook his head. Why couldn't Dean just tell him? Further down the page, it was revealed to him that the potion rendered him incapable of speaking to anyone without the previous knowledge of it. That- that was pretty smart, actually. _We should use this. I wonder what else is in it- Oh. Virgin blood. Guess not then_. The side-effects listed were nausea, vomiting, mortification, and depression. Sam closed the book and looked for a title. "Where did this come from?" He asked Dean, looking up to see him now enjoying his soup. With his face still very red, Dean answered "That bitch witch's house. Found it along with other notes. Turns out, she wasn't a very good potion maker and all of her test subjects couldn't really tell her anything. Apparently the potion attacks deeply hidden secrets first. Like how Benny and I were fuck buddies- or rather, suck buddies. I gave him more blowjobs than I can count when we were in purgatory, and my gag reflex is practically non-existent now because his cock is fucking enormous, or how I never told anyone that Crowley fucked my ass every day when I had the mark, and that I think about Cas every single time I jack off which is very often because you are a very annoying roommate. I even leave my jizz on the floor of the shower all the time because I'm a petty asshat who can't think of any better payback for you leaving your goddamn socks everywhere." Dean looked like he was on the verge of passing out from hyperventilation.  
Sam stood in the doorway still holding the book before he turned and walked into the library. _Don't throw up, don't throw up. You've barged into Dean's room when he was fucking a stripper with another one eating out his ass. This is not much different._ Except it was. Very different. The curse seemed to be getting stronger the longer it was in his system, and there was no telling what else his brother would confess to. Sam sat down at a table to read the passage again.  
_Shit. Three weeks_? He closed the book and grabbed his jacket and marched to his room. It wasn't a good idea to look into the kitchen as he passed by, but he did and was floored by what he saw. Dean was making out with Cas! Sam marched into the kitchen worried for Dean. Cas broke away from Dean and turned to Sam.  
"Samuel Winchester, if you do not exit this room- No. If you do not exit this bunker immediately, I will smite you where you stand. You will not ruin the best day of my life."  
"I love you Cas, I love you so much. I've loved you from the day you showed up naked on my car, you bee-loving weirdo." Dean couldn't stop talking and was looking at Cas with an odd expression, one that Sam knew without doubt meant he needed to be at least a state away. Cas looked back at Dean with the same goddamn sappy look, sweet enough to rot someone's teeth. _Fuck, Dean loved Cas_? Sam texted Charlie as he bolted out of the bunker and into the Impala.  
**Sam** : You win the bet. I need to stay at your place for a month or so.  
She texted back almost immediately.  
**Charlie** : Holy shit. You mean Jaime actually pulled it off?  
**Sam** : Jaime? You hired that witch?  
**Charlie** : Yeah, but I didn't think she had the guts. Or the skills, to be honest.  
**Sam** : Charlie, I don't know how to tell you this...  
**Charlie** : Sam, I appreciate the kindness, but I sent her after you fully aware you would kill her. I ran out of witch killing bullets. Winning the bet was just a happy bonus :)  
**Sam** : You cheater. Oh well, can't say it didn't work out for the better. See you at your place.  
**Charlie** : See you soon!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic, I'm glad you made it to the end! Please tell me what you think!


End file.
